Keeping Track
by AnotherBook
Summary: Posted by Erin. Ties in with "Transcription." As Steve Rogers attempts to adjust, his therapist suggests that he keep a journal. Naturally, living with the Avengers, it's not that simple. Features crazy Tony, superlative Pepper, midnight PTSD meetings, and a major chocolate addiction, with guest appearances by stalker Clint and Natasha's most deadly weaponry-her hairpins!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Well, the reactions to "Transcription Jn 30, 2012", both on the blog and this site, were all very favorable, so I thought I might write a sort of continuation/tie-in fic. Enjoy!

**Keeping Track**

June 30, 2012

"Life is hard enough without complications." This is something one Timothy Dugan told me once, in regards to his love life. He certainly wasn't thinking of being frozen in a polar ice cap for nearly seventy years, but there you are. If that won't make life complicated… I don't even want to finish that thought.

I wonder… what would have happened if I hadn't died?

Or what if I had actually stayed dead?

Stop. Stop it, Rogers. That's enough.

The therapist said that I should keep a diary, that it would help me get past this… post-traumatic stress. Like a log of mission reports, only for life in general. I don't know. Maybe I should go back to drawing.

I don't think I want anyone to see this. Ever. Especially not anyone from SHIELD. Agent Lonsley is a good man, true, but… well, I'd rather to keep this to myself.

Is this genetic? Or is it just human?

If I can get it under control… I don't really want help.

I don't know if I want to even write this. I haven't been able to keep up with one ever before. In fact, I couldn't keep up with anything back then.

Ha ha. Very funny. Now shut up.

Maybe someday, this will start to make sense. But I'm not sure if I even want it recorded at all.

Maybe someday, when I don't need this journal any more, I'll rip the pages out and burn them, and start over again.

If only it were that easy to erase the past.


	2. Chapter 2

I just love writing Steve's diary...

July 4,2012

I'm turning twenty-seven today. I didn't want anyone to know, but somehow everyone found out anyway. What does that tell me about trying to keep any secret, let alone a journal?

Tony teased me about being drinking age now, then acted shocked when I told him I was twenty-seven. I swear he must have some sort of attention distortion condition. Or something. Doesn't he always tease me about being ninety-five? This is almost worse than the Ferris wheel that one time.

There was cake (chocolate. Thank God for Pepper, else I'd be at the mercy of Tony's red-white-and-blue jokes. Ganache is the best food ever.) Of course, Tony brought drinks. Natasha swore in Russian at the grill until I took over. It turns out that, despite all of Bucky's grousing, I am actually a fairly decent cook. We made s'mores, which I thought would be a dessert overload, but Clint insisted. I almost think it was worth it to see him all "sugar-hyped," as Pepper called it. Tony chased me around with a sparkler (soldier instincts taking over again; I need to learn not to overreact to everything.) Then, we watched their very good fireworks display (I miss the picture-style fireworks, that's all I wanted to say), and while we were watching it Dr. Banner and Natasha fell asleep, one on each of my shoulders—I have no idea how they managed that. I was okay with Dr. Banner sleeping on me. The Black Widow asleep on my shoulder was disturbing.

After it was over, we drove back the whole way listening to a recording of a group called "The Chieftains." Tony would have argued, except that he was yawning too much. Who knew that Pepper is a closet "Celtic" music fan? It was reassuring though. It reminded me of Mom. Some of those songs—"The Minstrel Boy" especially—had always been Mom's favorites. Pepper seemed upset when I mentioned that the music reminded me of Mom, but I told her that I had already gone through the whole process of grief and that really, it was okay.

I wish it was as okay as I thought it was then. I hate being moody, but it's hard to stop thinking about it all. But taken all together, this was actually a good day.


End file.
